Yellow Leaves and Gossamer
by StarSpray
Summary: A collection for drabbles and ficlets. Chapter Six: Sunset in Imladris was beautiful.
1. Good Plain Hobbit Sense

_Written for the Silmladylove tumblr's Femslash February drabbletag challenge, for the prompt: Pearl Took/Marigold Gamgee, in which Pearl is the Ringbearer and Marigold is part of the Fellowship_

* * *

The silence in the courtyard was stifling. Marigold resisted the urge to fidget, and looked up at Miss Pearl, who sat looking around with a frown on her face. They'd come such a long and frightful way—all the way to Rivendell! Marigold wondered what Sam would say if he knew how many Elves she'd met—and, well, for what? It seemed clear enough to Marigold: someone had to take the Ring to that fire mountain off in Wilderland somewhere. And it seemed clear enough to her who would do it—only what was Pearl waiting for?

"Well," Pearl said finally, chin jutting out in that particularly Tookish way, and startling everyone, all those great lords and wise men, into looking at her, "well, I don't know the way. But I'll do it. I'll take the Ring."

Elrond spoke, then, saying something about the Hour of the Shire-folk, whatever that meant, and other things Marigold didn't quite rightly understand. But that wasn't what she was concerned with, anyway.

"And I'm going too!" Marigold burst out finally, unable to keep quiet any longer. All eyes turned to her, then, and she felt her face grow hot, but the look on Pearl's face of combined relief and delight gave her the courage to add, "You can't very well expect to go haring off into the Wild without _me_ , Miss Pearl!" Someone snorted—it might have been Gandalf. "You need someone with good plain hobbit sense!"

"Indeed," Elrond said, smiling down at her. "Especially since it appears impossible to separate the two of you, even when she is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

Marigold planted her hands on her hips, ignoring Master Bilbo's laughing and refusing to be embarrassed about it. After all, no one had _asked_ her to leave. "What a mess you've gotten us into this time, Miss Pearl!" she said instead.

Pearl laughed and kissed her cheek. "A right mess," she agreed, "but I am glad you'll be with me, Marigold!"


	2. After Everything

_Written for Tolkien_Weekly's "Cleudo" challenge series_

* * *

 **Horns in the Distance**  
 _Hallway_

Pippin halted so suddenly in the doorway between the parlor and the hallway that Pearl collided with him, and nearly sent both of them tumbling to the floor in a heap. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded, but stopped short herself, seeing him blinking back tears. "Goodness, Pippin, what's the matter?"

"Merry's nearly here," he said. "Don't you hear the horn calling?"

She did hear it, clear and loud enough to reach them even indoors. Merry did love announcing himself so.

"It reminds me of Minas Tirith," Pippin said, turning away. "And Rohan coming just in the nick of time."

 **.**

 **On Every Shelf  
** _Library_

It was a great deal of work to copy out the Red Book, and Sam was not at all confident in his writing—it looked worse even than Mr. Bilbo's spidery letters.

But Strider had asked for a copy for the library in Minas Tirith, and Sam couldn't very well say no to that. So he knuckled down and set to practicing, whenever he had a few spare moments.

In the end, there were many copies made by many hands. But the last one Sam made, he packed away carefully, until he left the Shire one last time, heading West.

 **.**

 **Family Recipes**  
 _Kitchen_

Bilbo had taught Frodo dozens of recipes over the years, from seed cakes and scones to roast chicken. Some of his favorite memories from his teens and tweens took place in Bag End's expansive kitchen. Often with a dwarf smoking in the corner.

Most of those recipes, however, resided now only in Frodo's memory. So as one last Birthday Gift for Sam and Rosie, he wrote out all the best ones, and bound them together in a simple brown book, which he left in the kitchen by the window, open to let in the sunshine and breeze from the garden.

 **.**

 **Hidden Treasure  
** _Secret Passage_

As the last of the restoration of Bag End drew towards completion, Frodo found Sancho Proudfoot helping to panel the walls in one of the pantries. "Have you found any secret passages or hidden doors?" he asked, and laughed when Sancho's round face turned scarlet. "I thought about digging one, for a bit of fun, but of course I haven't anything to hide in it!"

"I don't suppose old Mr. Bilbo ever really had anything, either," Sancho said. "Hidden away or not."

"Why, of course he had! But it's all gone, now. Only dragons hide away and hoard their treasure."

 **.**

 **Herblore of the Shire  
** _Study_

"What's all this?" Esmeralda peered at the neatly stacked piles on the desk in Merry's personal study. Most of them were letters from various families in the Southfarthing, and others looked were in Merry's own handwriting, and looked like notes from books.

"I'm writing a book," Merry told her, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I want to trace the history of pipe-weed as far back as I can."

"Whatever for?"

Merry shrugged. "It's a way of remembering, I suppose. Anyway, he would have liked it, I think. Except in Rohan they don't have books..."

 **.**

 **Expanding Tastes**  
 _Cellar_

The first thing Frodo did as Mayor was have the Lockholes cleaned of everything resembling a prison. And then they sat empty, no one wanting to have much to do with them or the memories they conjured, poor Will Whitfoot least of all.

When Sam was elected, he had them turned to wine cellars. Not only were the vinyards of the Shire doing increasingly well, but also the lands to the east. Ruby red Dorwinion, and sweet wines from Lossanarch were soon popular everywhere.

No one believed him, though, when he said they drank like Elvenkings in the Green Dragon.


	3. And You, my Love, are the Sea

Title from Tyler Knott Gregson's "Chasers of the Light" poetry collection.

Written for Tolkien Femslash Week Bingo prompts:  
Rare Characters i17: Finduilas of Dol Amroth  
Cliche/Fluff/TLC i15: Gift-giving  
Story Elements i17: A Pearl Necklace  
Pairings g13: Human/Ainu

* * *

As the sun sank westward, painting the clouds crimson and vermilion, Finduilas slipped from the palace and ran, barefoot, down the path that lead to the shore. It tide was high and the breeze brisk, sending spray to settle on Finduilas' face and eyelashes even before her feet touched the sand. She inhaled the smell of clean air and salt deeply, closing her eyes and letting the day's tension flow out of her.

She would have dropped bonelessly to the ground there, basking in the last rays of the sun and the rising moon, if it were not for the singing she heard down the beach, a voice akin to the sound of waves, but different also, in a way no mortal or Elven tongue could adequately describe.

Finduilas hiked her skirts up to her knees and ran down the beach, laughing as she kicked up sand and splashed through the waves that reached up to wash over her ankles. The singing ceased, melting into answering laughter, and a woman rose out of the waves, water falling around her in a dress of sheer, flowing fabric that wasn't fabric. Her hair pooled around her ankles and out behind her into the water, woven with pearls and shells and strands of kelp. She caught Finduilas when she stumbled into the deeper water, and both of them laughed into their kiss.

Being with Uinen meant being immersed in music. Even her speech was practically singing. That evening she taught Finduilas the songs of the oysters that made the pearls divers collected for jewelry, while they floated and splashed together in the shallows, until it grew late enough that Finduilas had to return to Dol Amroth. Uinen caught her in a kiss that held all the passion and force of the running tide. "Until we meet again," she whispered before dissolving into spray and sea foam on the breeze, leaving Finduilas breathless.

It wasn't until she returned to the palace that she noticed the string of glistening pearls around he neck that had not been there before.


	4. Laughing in the Sun

Written for Tolkien Femslash Week's bingo prompts:

Four Words O41: Exile, Hands, Diversion, Perception  
Format/Genre G31: Drabble Series  
Romance Tropes O41: Kidnapped

* * *

I.

The soft whisper of laughter was Éowyn's only warning before strong hands slipped over her eyes and mouth. She hardly had time to scream before her kidnapper pulled her into the tall reeds growing along the Entwash. Éowyn fought, but not very hard, thinking it was only her brother or one of his friends playing a joke.

But when her captor released her, far from her horse and the rest of her riding party, she found it was not Éomer at all, but a woman, still laughing, with star-bright eyes and gems in her hair. "Well met, Éowyn of Rohan."

.

II.

"Lalwen! I wish you wouldn't do this." Éowyn pushed her loosened hair out of her eyes to glare properly, but of course Írimë remained unfazed.

"But I must keep up appearances!" Lalwen protested, laughing. She was always laughing—hence her name, she'd told Éowyn when they first met. The gems in her hair glinted. "Your people perceive mine as fey and strange and dangerous. I would hate to disappoint them."

Éowyn rolled her eyes, but could not keep the smile from her face. "What about disappointing _me?_ "

"I would hate that even more." Lalwen caught her face and kissed her.

.

III.

It had started as a game, a simple diversion every time she came south of Galadriel's country. Írimë had intended only to befriend Éowyn, seeing how lonely the girl was—and then she had seen the core of steel in her, and her smile was like the blossoming of a flower in spring.

But the Shadow was growing again, more swiftly than expected; its tendrils reached even to the heart of Edoras, and Éowyn no longer rode abroad with her brother and cousin. In time Írimë did not dare to enter Rohan, for fear of discovery by Sauron's fell servants.

.

IV.

They met again in Minas Tirith, as all of Gondor celebrated the union of its new King with his Queen. Éowyn was dressed all in white, with a mantle of star-studded blue, her golden hair like a cascade of sunlight over her shoulders.

But the reunion was bittersweet. "I have dwelled on these shores in long exile," Írimë whispered into her hair in the quiet hours before dawn, "but come next spring, I will take ship to the West."

Éowyn kissed her soundly, but wordlessly, her calloused shieldmaiden's hands gentle as they pulled Írimë to her one more time.


	5. West Away

_Written for the Coastal challenge series on Tolkien Weekly_

* * *

 **West Away**  
 _Wave_

Sam paused to watch the waves lap gently against the sand. He leaned on his walking stick and sighed. The Havens stood gleaming in the golden sunset, only a short walk away. Did Elves have inns, he wondered? Well, if not, he could find Círdan's house, he supposed.

"Well met, Master Hobbit!" someone called out. Sam turned to see a pair of Elves, identical down to their clothes, approaching from down the beach. "Have you come to sail away West?"

"Of course he has," said the second Elf. To Sam, he added, "And we are to be your sailing companions!"

 **.**

 **Proper Introductions**  
 _Cliff_

Sam squinted at the Elves. They'd come down from the cliffs just to the north, seemingly, and though at first he'd taken them for Master Elrond's sons, it was soon clear they were not. They had an air about them he'd come to recognize in much older Elves, like Lord Celeborn. "I'm not in the habit of journeying with folk whose names I don't know," he informed them. "Specially when they seem to know mine already."

"Of course, forgive us," said the first Elf. "I am Elurín, and my brother is Eluréd." They bowed together, and chorused, "At your service!"

 **.**

 **Sails are Set**  
 _Pebble_

They walked together down the pebbled beach, slowly, for Sam was getting on in years, as he tried to remember where he'd heard his companions' names before. But they reached the harbor, and a ship awaiting them with Círdan beside it, before he could call up the memory. Círdan smiled at Sam, and Sam grinned. He'd lived quite a full life, and now he was quite ready to find Master Frodo again, and take some rest.

"Farewell, at last!" Eluréd exclaimed, smiling, stretching his arms out as though to embrace the whole world. "And now to see what lies Westward."

 **.**

 **Shire Craft  
** _Bucket/Spade_

As they settled into the boat's small cabin, Elurín peered curiously at Sam's things. "Why did you bring a spade?" he asked. "There isn't any gardening to do in the middle of Belegaer!"

Sam ducked the spade, and its matching hoe and smaller trowel, under his bunk. "I thought I might find a bit of garden over there on Eressëa," he said, blushing a bit. "And I don't suppose there's many hobbit-sized tools to be found there."

They could be made, of course—but there was nothing like good Shire craft-work, in Sam's opinion, when it came to digging potatoes.

 **.**

"What are these buckets for?" Sam asked, as his companions pulled out a small stack of them on deck, as he envisioned rather vividly the three of them frantically bailing out of their swiftly-sinking vessel.

"For catching rain," Eluréd said.

"Or fish," his brother added. He opened a compartment and pulled out a large net. "I hope you don't mind if we leave the cooking to you, Master Gamgee!"

Sam grinned. "I don't mind at all, Master Elurín." They had plenty of food—waybread and such—but not even Lady Galadriel's lembas tasted better than a good freshly fried fish.

 **.**

 **Obscurity**  
 _Shell_

It didn't take long for Sam to recall his companions' names from the histories—in which they played an even smaller part than he had. "But where have you been living all this time, then?" he demanded.

"Oh, here and there," Eluréd said. A dolphin had brought them a few crabs, and he was busy prying the meat out of the shells. "We made it a point to keep out of the way of nearly all the important things."

"Easier not to die that way," Elurín added cheerfully. "Mandos has always sounded so terribly _boring_."

Sam choked on his crab.

 **.**

 **A Warm Welcome  
** _Ship_

Beautiful ships sailed out of Alqualondë and Avallonë to meet them, manned by laughing silver-haired mariners.

And then they were docking, a small crowd clustered on the pier—and Frodo was there, and old Gandalf, both of them grinning broadly. Frodo laughed when Sam wobbled, his legs still used to the rocking of the ship, and embraced him tightly. "Dear Sam, welcome to Elvenhome!"

"I'm very glad to see _you_ still here, Mr. Frodo, and no mistake!"

"Welcome to Eressëa, Master Gamgee," said Gandalf, eyes twinkling like stars. "And welcome at last, Dior's sons! Your sister is waiting for you!"


	6. Sunset

_Written for the Back to Middle-earth Month prompt: Darkness Falling_

* * *

Sunset in Imladris was beautiful. The shadows lengthened early, for the valley was set low in the foothills of the mountains, but long after the Sun had disappeared from view it glimmered on the snowy peaks, and turned the highest falls to liquid gold before they turned silver in deeper gloaming. Meanwhile the stars came out, one at a time, winking behind wisps of pale pink cloud.

Frodo sat on a bench in the garden, swinging his feet idly as he watched the sky. Nearby a nightingale sang. Finally, he sighed, and got up. There was packing yet to finish.


End file.
